


Christmas in the Trenches

by Brate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series. The boys celebrate Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas in the Trenches

"Seriously?"

"Yes," Sam said firmly. "I want to do this. And you're going to help."

"You don't know anything about making cookies."

"I don't need to; they come in a tube now. All I have to do is spoon them onto a cookie sheet and bake 'em."

Dean paused. "Where the hell did we get a cookie sheet?"

"Ms. Mathis, from next door."

"Hmph." Dean wasn't ready to give in just yet. "If you already got this handled, why do I have to do anything?"

"Because we're doing it together as a _family_ ," Sam said firmly. "There are certain traditions at Christmas, and this is one of them—Santa needs his cookies."

"Dude, you know there's no such—"

"You finish that sentence," Sam warned, raising his spoon, "and you will have absolutely no cookies… or cookie dough."

Dean snapped his mouth shut. For about ten seconds. "You know Santa likes milk."

Sam's smile turned smug. "I know," he sing-songed. "That's why there's a carton of it in the fridge."

Dean checked—the little twerp was telling the truth. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Same place as the cookie dough, Dean: a _grocery store_."

"And where'd you get the money?" Dean knows for sure Sam wouldn't touch the stash Dad left for them. He smirked. "Oh, man, don't tell me you stole 'em."

Sam looked suitably outraged. "Oh, right, I stole food for Santa. I'm sure that would put me way up on the 'Nice' list." He rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I've been shoveling our neighbors' driveways for the past month."

"A month? And all you could get was a lousy carton of milk and a tube of dough? Sucker."

"No, I also made enough to get three presents: one for you, one for Dad, and one for Uncle Bobby."

Unconsciously, Dean's hand strayed to the amulet Sam had given him for Christmas a few years previously. It was his most prized possession. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand and adopted a playful lean. "You know you don't have to call him Uncle Bobby anymore, right?"

"I want to. Makes him feel more like family."

Dean had no idea how to respond to that. So he didn't. "What'd you get me?"

Refusing to look up, Sam said, "You'll find out tomorrow."

Hearing what was unsaid, Dean straightened. "Sammy, there's no telling if Dad and Bobby'll be done in time…" From the way this case had been going, he doubted if they'd be back before New Year's.

"I know," Sam said, meeting Dean's eyes for a moment before they dropped down to his task of shoveling baby mounds of cookie dough out onto the pan. "It's fine."

Dean wished he could believe that Sam actually felt that way.

All of a sudden Dean was hit with what his little brother was asking for this Christmas. "So… guess I'll go out and try to find us a tree."

Sam's head whipped up and he gave a pleased smile. "Really?" Like maybe he thought Dean was teasing him.

"I'm not gonna be the Grinch in this family."

Sam's smile softened. "Thank you, Dean."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean waved a hand as he put on his coat and gloves. "I'll be back when I'm back."

~*~*~*~

By the time Dean returned an hour later, he'd pretty much lost any residual Christmas spirit. He was definitely feeling like Scrooge McDuck. Or just Scrooge. Whichever one hated Christmas.

Maybe someone had put a crazy curse on the town. 'Cause there was no rational explanation for what he'd had to go through to get even the tiniest frickin' Charlie Brown Christmas tree in existence. Hopefully, Sam had a blanket to wrap around it.

Dean was muttering curses under his breath, dragging the tree behind him as he opened the door and was hit with a wave of baked cookie-scented air. He inhaled deeply.

"Dean, you're back!"

Sam had the nerve to sound surprised. As if his big brother wouldn't come through like always.

"'Course I am. I promised you a tree, didn't I?"

At Sam's ecstatic face, Dean wished he'd fought that red-headed old lady a little harder for the better tree. He was kind of embarrassed by what he'd brought home. But Sam went around him and helped him carry it into the living room, his smile not dimming or falling from his face one bit.

"Look," Sam said, holding a shoebox out, "I even got ornaments."

Dean peered into the box, surprised. "Where'd those come from?"

"Mr. Coleman. He gave them to me last week when I was shoveling. But I didn't think I'd get to use 'em." Sam seemed nervous, like the secondhand ornaments wouldn't be good enough for Dean's crappy tree.

"They'll look great, Sam," Dean said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's get this thing set up so we can decorate it."

There weren't that many so it didn't take them long. But even to Dean's cynical eye, the tree looked pretty good, and Sam was grinning broadly. Then Sam jackrabbited into the bedroom, coming out with three wrapped gifts he placed under the tree.

"Why don't you go get Santa's snacks to put out?" Dean suggested.

"Oh, yeah." Sam headed into the kitchen.

Dean ran to their bedroom, grabbed the present from under his pillow, and hurried back to stick it under the tree. He hadn't gotten anything for Dad or Bobby, but he figured they'd understand.

Sam came back holding a plateful of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, stopping short when his eyes lit on the new package under the tree. Then they widened and shot to Dean.

Ducking his head with a shrug, Dean said, "Told you I'm no Grinch." His gaze remained fixed firmly on his feet.

Silence stretched.

Just when he was about to die from the _awkward_ , Dean heard shuffling steps, and the milk and cookies appeared in his eye line. He took the food and looked up.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," Sam said, face shining with love and adoration.

Dean cleared his throat. "Merry Christmas, Sammy."


End file.
